Storm Season

by Pene Henson

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  “Thank you for playing for me.” Lien’s sincere. The candlelight shifts in her dark eyes.

  They eat in their chairs, not talking, holding little white bowls of ice cream. For a time, they don’t look at one another. Claudie stares out the window. The rain builds again. It batters the house as though it’s never thought of slowing and never will.

  Claudie’s okay with that though. She can’t imagine what would tempt her to go outside.

  5

  The candlelight heats Lien’s cheeks. The isolation, Claudie’s music—everything is intense. Lien would love to break the quiet, cabin-bound spell and head up the street to a bar, let the hum of people and fashion and chatter tone things down and distract her from thinking. Distractions are few and far between here. She grabs the empty bowls and glasses and stands to take them to the kitchen.

  “Dinner was excellent,” Claudie says. She hangs the guitar in its place. Her shoulder muscles shift under her soft T-shirt.

  Lien’s knee is stiff as she moves across the room. She’s wearing Claudie’s running shorts and knee-high sports socks, striped in navy and electric blue. The socks are quirky and cute. They’re also suddenly soaking wet. Water is dripping from the ceiling. “Claudia. Claudie. I’m pretty sure we have a leak in the roof.”

  Claudie turns. “Damn.” She studies the ceiling. “Fuck it. I’m going to have to get out there.”

  “Not now, though,” Lien says quickly. She likes the image of Claudie fixing the roof with her sleeves rolled up, but it can’t be done in a rain storm. Thunder rumbles over the bush. The walls shudder. “I’m serious. You can’t go on the roof in this. You’d be struck by lightning or you’d slip and fall. Can we put out a bucket and collect the water?”

  “I guess we need to for tonight.” Claudie frowns. “But that’s a pretty fast leak.” She examines the ceiling. “Shit. There’s a second one.” She mutters, “It’s an old roof. Tin. The fasteners have lifted. But it doesn’t usually leak. I thought I had it all sealed off.” Her face is red, as though she’s embarrassed.

  Lien’s never sealed a roof in her life. “Hey. I’d guess not much is waterproof against this. We’re basically underwater. Even a submarine would probably leak.” At least they’re both dry here. She has more reason to worry about Beau and the kids than the leak. “This’d be worse in a tent. Do you think they found somewhere else for my friends to sleep?”

  “Yep. I checked in with my mate Shelley. They’re sleeping at the visitors’ center in town. I should have told you earlier.”

  “I’m glad they’re okay.”

  Claudie crouches to grab a couple of buckets from under the sink. She stands easily and places them in position, finds a deep bowl in a cupboard, and lines it up under the dripping ceiling, too. Lien contemplates the water as the containers fill. This is the kind of thing that happens in old TV series or in books, not in Lien’s life. And she’s never had to skip a shower because the hot water’s run out. She might need to be even nicer to their landlord.

  The drips in the buckets ring loudly. The sound is a counterpoint to the rain outside that goes on and on; it punctuates the steady torrents pouring off the gutters and the wind battering the trees. Outside the cabin, there’s no human noise at all. No cars, no strangers laughing, no thump of music up the road. The absence is overwhelming. It seems incredible that Claudie’s been here for years.

  Lien covers her mouth as she yawns. It’s getting late. “I’ll sleep out here in the chair tonight,” she says. “I’m recovering fast. It’s only fair.”

  Claudie shakes her head. “No. Don’t worry. You can take the bed.”

  “Claudia,” Lien pitches her voice low to sound firm. Claudie tips her head. Her eyes twinkle. Lien goes on. “I honestly can’t steal your bed again. There’s no way. And if you try and make me I’m afraid I’m going to insist on sharing.”

  Claudie considers her. Her eyes are careful, long-lashed and deep gray as the stormy sky. It’s impossible to tell what Claudie will say. It twists Lien’s stomach to think that something she has offered might be refused. No matter how many times she tells herself people are allowed to say no, refusal seems like rejection. She tries to laugh, but her laugh is trapped and nervous in her throat. “It’s not like I’m going to seduce you in your bed.” It’s a stupid thing to say. Especially given that she hasn’t showered for almost two days.

  But when Claudie’s gaze flicks away, her cheeks are pink. She speaks slowly. “Right. That’s a pity, then.” Lien’s breath catches. But Claudie goes on as though she didn’t say anything unusual. “Okay. Fine. We can share the bed. Why not?”

  “Good.” Lien’s heart beats loud and fast.

  “You take the bathroom first. I’m going to empty the buckets so they don’t overflow in the night.”

  Lien strips off to wash herself. As she dresses again, she examines herself in the small mirror. Claudie’s clothes are too large. They’re faded black on faded black. They’re not club gear or whimsical daywear or quirky street clothes that’ll get you photographed. They’re just clothes. But they’re comfortable. Lien scoops her hair from her face. She looks good. Maybe. Kind of. Not like her usual self. And she likes her usual self. But she likes how she looks in the mirror too: relaxed and appropriate and easy.

  When she exits the bathroom, Claudia is unbuttoning her shirt with her back to Lien. She shrugs it from her broad shoulders. Lien turns away. It’s a new step, being trusted like this. From what she knows of Claudie, it’s not a simple thing.

  From the location of the lamp and the table beside the bed, it’s clear that Claudia sleeps on the side closest to the door. Lien walks to the other side and lifts the netting to climb in. They don’t say anything. The rain fills the silence.

  In bed, Lien is careful to lie at the edge with her body straight up and down.

  “You don’t seem particularly comfortable,” says Claudia. Her voice is amused.

  “I am. It’s fine. I’m good.”

  “I’ll get some ice for you to put on your knee again.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” Lien keeps still.

  Minutes later Claudie hands over the ice, which is wrapped in a tea towel. Lien wraps her knee and lies down.

  “I appreciate it,” she says. “You’ve done so much for me.”

  When Claudie climbs into bed, she leaves a large space in between them as though it might hurt to brush up against Lien in the night. Lien tries not to be offended. She was doing the same thing.

  “Thank you for sharing your bed with me,” Lien says. Manners are doubly important when sharing a bed with the superhero ranger who rescued you.

  “Not a problem.”

  Lien smiles into the dark. It’s not as if she and Claudie bonded all day. They chatted; they worked side by side. They cooked. Claudie played music. They admired the view. It wasn’t a remarkable day, really. But Lien is beginning to know Claudie. And knowing Claudie matters to Lien.

  Lien lets her body relax, stretches out. The wind swoops through. It sounds like waves against the side of the house, rushing through the canopy over and over.

  The morning’s birds are quieter than usual, but a few magpies and cockatoos call in the bush and let Claudie know the sun is up. She keeps her eyes closed. It’s been years since she experienced the skin-certain presence of someone in her bed: the breath, the warmth, and the all-too-human heartbeat beside her. This girl, this almost stranger, has seen Claudie asleep and vulnerable. It’s painful and humbling that a person’s been so close to Claudie and has chosen not to hurt her.

  There’s another angle. It would be too easy to find the intimacy appealing.

  She opens her eyes. Lien is still asleep. Her face is serene and sweet. When Lien opens her eyes, she’ll chatter on about things that seem unimportant but shed light on everything; she’ll move like a sport
sperson, capable and balanced despite her injured knee; she’ll smile and pad about on bare feet and light up the cabin.

  But for now she’s still.

  Claudie walks into the main room. The ceiling’s still dripping. She empties the buckets and bowl and lets the drips start to fill them again. After all the work she’s put into the cabin, it’s frustrating that the roof leaks the first time she has a visitor. She’ll get up on the roof to fix the fastenings today.

  In the kitchen, she lights the stove and puts on a pot of coffee. The day is steel gray, and the rain has set in, soaking the already-soaked deck and ground. The lightning died overnight, and the wind has shifted east. The easterlies will push the storm out to sea.

  Lien gets up. Claudie hands her coffee.

  “You’re an angel among women,” Lien says. The night’s sleep has left her refreshed and buoyant. “You rescue me; you provide caffeine. What more can you do?”

  Claudie frowns. Lien stops. She tones herself down. She can be overwhelming in full enthusiastic just-woke-up mode. “So. Are we getting up on the roof today?”

  “I am,” says Claudia. “Not you.”

  “Dude. Claudie. I’m not planning to clamber up on the roof and need another rescue. But you could definitely use my help.”

  Claudie’s stubborn. “I’m fine by myself.”

  Lien persists. “I know. But think. I can hold the ladder and hand you things. One trashed knee doesn’t make it impossible for me to do anything at all, Claudia.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” says Claudie, but she’s stopped arguing and she smiles with relative grace.

  In a break in the weather, Claudia collects a ladder from the shed behind the rainwater tank. She slams her hand on the tank loudly enough that Lien can hear the boom. “Tank’s full at least,” Claudia says as she steps onto the deck with the ladder. “We might be stuck with cold water, but we have a lot of it.”

  “Oh, good. I should shower once the day’s warmer. Be nice to clean up a bit.” It’s a small space, the weather is humid, and Lien’s very aware that she hasn’t washed properly since she drove north almost three days ago.

  Claudie smiles. “You’re fine. It’s the bush. If I can reconnect the solar panels, I can even make it a hot shower for you.”

  Lien widens her eyes. “My hero.” She puts her hands to her chest and sighs appreciatively.

  “Don’t swoon yet. Give me a chance to fuck it up first.” Claudia’s still smiling, though. As for swooning, Lien’s not fooling herself. She’s definitely past help on the swooning.

  Claudie leans the ladder against the gutter so she can climb up. Lien takes hold at the foot. She tries to seem calm, strong, and certain with her hands.

  “Hand me those metal flats,” Claudie calls.

  Lien steps onto the bottom rung and hands them up one at a time.

  “And the drill. I’ll put these in under the fasteners.”

  Lien doesn’t talk while Claudie’s on the roof. The drill whirrs against metal. Lien’s attention is focused on the ladder. That’s her job, and she’s afraid Claudia might fall.

  “I’m not going to topple off, Lien, if that’s what’s worrying you,” comes Claudia’s voice in a break in drilling.

  Lien laughs. “Sorry,” she says.

  “No need,” says Claudia. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I just missed you talking.”

  Lien stares up at her. “Oh,” she says. Her heart stutters. She holds tight to the ladder. She can’t think what to talk about.

  “Corrugated sheeting’s best for this,” Claudie says around the nails in her mouth. She hammers a sheet onto the roof. The drill’s motor starts again. “It’s not great up here. I should have noticed there was a problem before the storm.”

  “Well, how often do you get up there?” Lien asks. “You can’t see everything.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “It’s probably new damage. The storm brought a whole lot of stuff down. And the wind.”

  “It’s the spaces around the fasteners,” Claudia says. “Almost done.” Lien stands on her toes to see from the ground. She’s easy to impress with construction-related activity, and Claudie impresses her anyway.

  “There,” Claudie says. She slides down so Lien can see her boots. Almost immediately the rain starts again. Within a few seconds it’s as heavy as ever. The wind picks up, sending the rain over the house in great sheets. Claudia can’t hold her footing. Her eyes widen, and she gasps as her boot slips from the roof. It catches on the top rung. Lien holds the ladder firm as Claudie makes her way down.

  “That was more excitement than I’d hoped,” Claudia says. Her voice shakes.

  Lien reaches out to touch her arm but draws her hand back. “You did great. Steady as a rock up there, like Superwoman against the storm.”

  Claudia gives her a crooked smile. “Um, thank you.” She huffs out a soft laugh. “Really. Don’t oversell me. It’ll be disappointing in the end.”

  Lien’s certain Claudia is wrong about that.

  “It’s tough going trying to get music made in Sydney,” Lien says. They’re in the living room chairs eating a late lunch of peanut butter sandwiches made with defrosted bread. “I bumped into one of the owners of that little record label Fish/Fish, and she was running kids’ parties.”

  “The label sounds familiar.” Claudie nods.

  “I mean, I bet her kids’ parties are the coolest but—”

  “But it’s not what she dreamed when she started the label.”

  “Yeah.”

  Claudie’s phone rings. She leaves her plate on the arm of the chair to answer it.

  “Hey, Shelley.”

  “Afternoon. How’s it all going up there?”

  “Place hasn’t been hit by lightning yet.” Claudie smiles. “But we still have no power.”

  “Right, I’ll call on the radio next time.”

  Claudie steps toward the window. “You okay in town?”

  “It’s all good. I came into the office. Dylan was getting tired of me cleaning the house around him and listening to the emergency services on their radio frequency. The weather’s clearing up. We should be back to our regularly scheduled summer heat soon. But it’ll be longer before the water subsides.”

  “Okay. Good to know.”

  “The girl still okay there with you?”

  “Yep. How’re her friends?” Lien lifts her head.

  “Last I saw them they were playing pool in Sheila’s bar. Nice enough kids, but bloody intense when they get on the piano.” Shelley laughs a belly laugh. “Hey, the reason I called. Iron Pot’s burst its banks at Scalpel Gorge. Can you get in and take a gander at the flood protection down there?”

  “No problem,” says Claudie. The park’s been working on a platypus habitat in that area; they need to make sure it’s all okay.

  “Thanks, sis.”

  “Talk soon.”

  Shelley hangs up.

  “That was the station. I’ve got to work on something,” Claudie says to Lien.

  Lien shifts forward in her chair. “Do you want a hand?”

  Claudie shakes her head. “Nope. It’s a bit of a drive and then I have to hike in. And it’s still raining. You’d be stuck with the truck for an hour or two. You’re better off staying here.”

  Lien nods. “Okay.”

  “You’ll be fine alone for a few hours.” Claudie pats her arm then draws away. “You can play guitar. Or read some magazines.”

  “Yeah, no. It’s not a problem.” Lien’s eyes are overly wide as she smiles.

  Claudie takes it slow on the wet roadway, goes as far as she can on the unsealed roads, then steps down from the four-wheel drive and strides across the ground. Her boots squelch and stick in the wet mud. The creek’s escaped its banks. It whirlpools between the rocks and the ferns. But
the rain’s mostly stopped. The insects have started up; their shrilling rises and falls. The lorikeets and magpies are screeching and calling to one another.

  “You’re right, Shell. It’s close to bursting here.”

  The radio crackles in reply. Shelley’s voice comes through. “You talking to yourself again?”

  “Just keeping you up to the minute. I’m gonna signpost for anyone coming in from this side of the park.” Claudie doesn’t want to be fishing people out of the water downstream. She kicks at the inadequate barrier between the creek and the toilet block. “Plus I’d better get a few more sandbags down. The rain’s stopped so it should be okay, but we’ve got more water coming down from the mountains so it could be wet around here tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I believe it. You need help? I can get out there.”

  “Nope, stay put. I’ve got fresh sandbags in the truck. I’ll be done in an hour or so. Then I’ll head up to the Murray Scrub site and give it a once-over.”

  “Thanks, Claudie.”

  “How are the road warnings going?”

  “It’s a mess. This storm was a killer. And it’s not over. But we’re getting there.”

  It’s going to be a long afternoon. Claudie opens the back of the four-wheel drive and hoists a sandbag over her shoulder. She’s proud of the way her body handles this. She’s balanced. Resilient. It’s taken time and effort to get to the point where she can take on this kind of back-breaking work by herself.

  Lien’s back in the cabin. It’s appealing to think of her there, glancing in the mirror, padding about in Claudie’s socks, looking out the window at the sky.

  Claudie has more to do than she thought. By the time she leaves the Murray Scrub site her muscles ache. The cicadas and frogs are out in force, their constant noise a familiar sign of nightfall. The sun settles down toward the mountains as she drives home.

  Claudie climbs the stairs to the deck. Here she can watch the night fall. The red-gold sun hangs in place, briefly blazing at the edge of the world, pressed between the horizon and the undersides of the evening’s heavy clouds. It lights the tops of the trees in bright rose and gold. Claudie pauses on the narrow deck. She lets her muscles unwind as the wind twists around her.